


"Mudblood," "Whore," and Other Words That Don't Matter

by AvaJune



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Consensual Kink, Cussing, Dirty Talk, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Making the Best of It, Out of Character, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaJune/pseuds/AvaJune
Summary: When the world goes down in flames, you learn to adapt or go down with it. For Hermione two years after the war, the world is no longer black and white. Thrust into unsavory and difficult situations, she finds the strength to bend instead of breaking. In this world, there is nothing left but compromising for the best you can get. Old enemies can become new allies, friends, and maybe even lovers. Maybe the best you can get will be worth it after all.





	"Mudblood," "Whore," and Other Words That Don't Matter

**Author's Note:**

> The song and scene referenced in the beginning of the story is from "Whore" by In this Moment (both lyrics and music video.) I own neither the song nor the characters in this story.  
> I picture the singing in this fic being less metal, more like this acoustic cover.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z0mZ-v2emQ

This world may have gone to shit but at least he'd been well compensated. 

 

Scabior took another shot of far too expensive whiskey and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. This little hole in the wall was fairly classy, all things considered. He would never be comfortable in a place with a roof, but the shows were decent and they had liquor, so here he was. The "Dark Lord" was the dictator of all Britain and a lot of the country now was just leftover rust and wailing women. But Diagon Alley had turned into an upscale area for death eaters and those who came out on the winning side. Scabior was not a death eater, but he was a merciless bastard and no one could hunt and track like him. Two years after the fall of the chosen one and there were still pockets of resistance and survivors that had to be ran down and drug before the Dark Lord's Council. He threw them towards the council, got paid, and left. Better them than he, and this knack for survival had made him a comfortable vault of galleons. 

 

Looking around the dark room littered with little round tables and smoke, he spotted a few of the higher ups, Dolohov and one of the Lestranges. They were both sadistic fucks, he knew, and he pitied whatever muggle born they paid to spread their legs tonight. A few middle men lackeys were scattered as well, no other contractors like himself that he recognized. He was considering finishing his overpriced whiskey and flooing back to his little home, maybe running his dogs through the woods, when the heavy curtain at the front pulled open to reveal a woman with a bowed head balanced on a high stool. Her legs were crossed demurely at the knee, a position that pulled her already scanty plaid skirt up to reveal even more leg. The top of her lacy, white gartered stockings left a delicious looking expanse of thigh available to be seen. Her wide hips rolled up into the rest of an hourglass figure that was only accentuated by the way she was sitting. Ample breasts strained against her oxford school shirt that seemed two sizes too small. Her face was framed and currently concealed by long chestnut colored ringlets. Across her breasts, in red sequins, was the word "Mudblood." 

 

Music began to play and the woman on the stool began to sway to the sound. She lifted her head, keeping her eyes half lidded while she sang the opening of her song. Scabior choked on his whiskey. That there was Hermoine-FUCKING-Granger. And she was not the girl she used to be, that was for damn sure.  
She scanned the crowd, a light smile playing on her lips. Scabior had been looking for her for YEARS. And here she was, the woman who haunted his very naughty, very frustrating dreams.  
"I'm the girl you've been thinking about.  
The one thing you can't live without.  
I'm the girl you've been waiting for,  
I'll have you down on your knees,  
I'll have you begging for more..." 

 

Standing, she slowly moved towards the right of the stage. He didn't remember her legs being that long, but maybe that's because of those ugly muggle jeans. With every step, her body swayed and Scabior watched as the men in the crowd seemed hypnotized be the steady movement of her hips.  
"You probably thought I wouldn't get this far.  
You thought I'd end up in the back of a car.  
You probably thought that I'd never escape,  
I'd be a rat in a cage, I'd be a slave to this place..." 

 

She turned, strolling pointedly to the other side of the stage. Muggleborns weren't important enough to the new regime to keep track of, so he had run out of leads quickly after the war ended. You'd think a fucking war hero turned villain would have had a paper trail, but she just hadn't. He honestly assumed at this point she was dead. But here she was, and she moved her very much alive hands to run from the tender skin behind her ears, caressing across the top of her breasts while she slowly shook her ass.  
"You don't know how hard I fought to survive,  
Waking up alone when I was left to die.  
You don't know about this life I've lived,  
All these roads I've walked,  
All these tears I've bled..." 

 

Moving back to the center of stage, she leaned across the stool, granting the men in the audience a full view of lacy, white knickers. Scabior watched, amused, at the audience's reaction. It wasn't even straight up pussy, it was covered pussy. Of course, he too found her mouthwatering but that wasn't new. He had wanted her ever since he made the colossally idiotic mistake of handing her to the Malfoys instead of keeping her for himself. Something about her had caught his attention, and he wasn't sure yet what it was.  
"So how can this be?  
You're praying to me.  
There's a look in your eyes,  
I know just what that means.  
I can be, I can be your everything..." 

 

She turned and walked confidently towards the center of the stage. Her smile was wide and sexy as hell, and the whole crowd sat in the palm of her hand like she held the meaning of life under those knickers. Scabior briefly considered that may be the truth. He was a hunter, he lived for the chase, and Hermoine Granger was the prey he had willingly given up only for her to wriggle away from lesser captors than himself. Maybe it was her smell or her magic or the way she ran, but something about her had haunted him for years.  
"I can be your whore!  
I am the dirt you created,  
I am your sinner,  
I am your whore.  
But let me tell you something baby,  
You love me for everything you hate me for..." 

 

She had hit the floor, resting on her knees, and her hips rolled profanely as she sang. She had this look in her eye though, like she was eating up the power of this, like she was controlling the whole room. And hell, Scabior admitted to himself, she really was. 

 

The rest of the show was the same, that word 'mudblood' splashed across her tits and sparkling red while she led the room of death eaters and sympathizers around by their pricks. They seemed to forget, when she flashed them her knickers, that she was supposed to be filthy, a mudblood whore. And what was interesting about that, at least to a man like Scabior, is that judging by her smirk, she fucking knew exactly what she was doing. His little prey was playing the predator, a wolf dressed like a bunny. And Scabior was confident it is was the most arousing thing he had ever seen. 

 

\--- 

 

She didn't accept visitors after her shows, retiring to her private dressing room and quarters after work. The guard at her door was strangely moral and Scabior suspected the man had a weakness for the girl, but what a bribe couldn't buy a hex could still secure. And so it was that he quietly slipped into her parlor, after which he magically locked and silenced the door. Hermione didn't have a wand, he was sure of that. Muggleborns were not allowed wands anymore. 

 

Scabior strode through the small apartment of sorts, noting that almost every book, of which there were many, was old and torn. Technically, her having books was illegal, but Scabior wasn't about to rat on her. The furniture was old, but well maintained. Running a finger over her coffee table, he failed to collect any dust. So, the woman treated this place like a home, not a prison. Interesting. 

 

He didn't pause as he swept through the small hall towards the door way to what he assumed was her bedroom. As he entered without hesitation, he found he was correct. A small bed with a nightstand occupied the room, as well as a closet full of outfits and lingerie. Hermione herself sat in front of a lightly cracked vanity while she finger-brushed her thick curls. She had ditched the oxford in favor of a pale blue satin robe that skirted around her at mid-thigh. She didn't startle but instead met his eye in the mirror, her mouth spreading into a small grin. 

 

"Hello Scabior," she said, calmly. 

 

Hiding his surprise at her nonchalant greeting, Scabior bowed lightly and smiled back at her in the mirror. "Hello, beautiful," he answered with a smirk, parroting the same words he had greeted her with two years ago. 

 

Hermione turned to face him, her expression impassive and beautiful. She settled her hands in her lap and looked him over curiously. "I saw you in the crowd," she said, her tone even. "But I'll admit, I find myself curious; why-oh-why are you in my room right now?" 

 

Scabior leaned against the door frame and shrugged. "Was curious about something myself, Little Love," he told her. He asked a question he had a feeling he knew the answer to. "What's the price for a little of your time?" 

 

Her eyes flashed and she smirked at him, and Scabior knew he was right about her price. "I'm not for sale." 

 

He smiled widely at her before walking in and sitting down on her bed. "Is that so?" 

 

He kicked his boots off before he scooted up so his back was against the headboard and stretched his legs out, wiggling his patchy and mismatched socks. He met Hermione's gaze and there was a moment of silence while they studied each other. His opinion of the woman only went up as she let the silence stretch, unfazed. 

 

"Well then," Scabior said with a smirk and a wink, "What DO you have to offer me?" 

 

Her tongue darted out quickly and her smile widened. "Why would I offer you anything, Scabior? Someone's awfully entitled." 

 

"Oh Little Girl," he retorted, teasingly letting his eyes rake over her body. "I'd like to think I'm entitled to a lot of things, but I'll take whatever you're willin' to give me." 

 

She chuckled, unaffected. It seemed this princess had grown up quite a bit from the demure, untouched little girl he had known not 3 years ago. 

 

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, standing and walking back towards the living room. He watched her go, a single eyebrow raising in surprise at her words. "I have bourbon or fire whiskey." 

 

'Alright then,' Scabior thought to himself, 'let's see how this plays out.' 

 

"Fire Whiskey, Little Love," he called out to her. 

 

She was classy, composed...everything a mudblood after the war should not have been able to be. He wondered how in the fuck she managed that. He wondered whether his urge to ruin that about her or his strange need to understand it would win out tonight. 

 

Hermione came back in the bedroom holding two glasses and gestured for him to scoot over. With an amused quirk of his lips, he scooted down and she curled her legs up under her next to him before handing him a drink and taking a slow sip of her own. 

 

Her eyes were half lidded, not really focusing on any one thing. Scabior, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked downright relaxed, as if he never kidnapped her and took her to be tortured, as if he didn't hex her guard and sneak in her room. 

 

She turned to him and her eyes sparkled. "Aren't you going to drink?" 

 

He eyed the glass in his hand a little cautiously and she glanced up at him and giggled. 

 

"Here," she said, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. 

 

"See?" she said, her voice teasing. "Not drugged, not poison. But it is hard for me to get in my position, so you best drink it." 

 

"Yeah, about that," he countered after taking a long sip. "Your position, as you put it. You know, I looked for you, after the last battle, but you were nowhere." 

 

She looked at him, obviously surprised, but said nothing. He took that as leave to continue. "How the hell did you get HERE? I mean, muggleborns were either put to death, put to work, or whored out. You were pretty enough for the whoring, but then, you said you aren't for sale. So how'd that happen?" 

 

"Mmm," she sighed quietly, savoring her own drink. "Well, to make a ridiculously long story more succinct, it's as you said: of the options, I decided to capitalize on the one asset that death eaters still seemed to think I had of value. I was decent enough to look at, plus being Harry's friend, so I was able to go to one of the higher end escort sort of places. You know, for the extra special assholes." 

 

He snorted. "You do know I'm one of those extra special assholes, right?" 

 

She eyed him with a calculating glance but shook her head. "Maybe in your Gringotts vault, but not in who you are, I expect. You're too honest for them." 

 

"Touche," Scabior acknowledged before taking another drink. 

 

"But make no mistake," she said with a hollow laugh. "That place was still a shit show. I crawled out of that life naked, on my hands and knees and covered in cum. But the important part was that I was moving and getting somewhere." 

 

Hermione looked into his eyes as if she was searching for something. Scabior wasn't sure what it was she was trying to find, but whatever it was, he was pretty sure he didn't have anything she'd want. "So I did a lot of disgusting, vulgar, degrading things and I survived them so that I could put myself in the best position a mudblood whore could aspire to." 

 

She raised her glass in a mock cheers motion and clinked her drink with his. "So here I am. They pay and they pine and they don't get to touch me." 

 

Her smile was satisfied and superior. "I may not be winning, but I'm making sure that they're still losing, at least their money and if I'm lucky, they are receiving some solid self-loathing in return." 

 

Scabior laughed heartily, shaking his head. "Look at you, Little Girl. Who knew you were so good at games. Well, there is no love lost between me and the death eaters." 

 

She hummed a sort of noncommittal sound before downing the rest of her glass. "You don't believe in their ideology? You aren't, well, 'loyal' to the Dark Lord?" 

 

Scabior snorted out, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Hell no! Fuck that. I'm loyal to whoever is paying the most and I sure as shit don't buy into that blood purity crap. What a load that is." 

 

"I see." Hermoine said, leaning back against the headboard. "So you don't think I'm a mudblood slut, then?" 

 

Scabior grinned mischievously. "Mudblood, no. Bleed you and bleed the bloody Dark Lord himself into two cups, and no one'd be able to tell the difference, no matter how the fucker railed and crucio'd everyone who couldn't. But the slut part...I don't know, Love. Are you?" 

 

Hermione laughed, a half bitter, half triumphant sound before she lifted herself up and settled across his lap, her thighs straddling his own. Scabior said nothing but tilted his head and waited for her to continue. "Would you like to find out?" she drawled, pulling the string holding her robe together and tugging it off her shoulders. It fluttered to rest next to the bed, forgotten. 

 

She leaned forward and bit his ear lobe and he growled. He quickly finished his drink and let the glass fall to the small carpet on the floor beneath them. 

 

"I thought you said you weren't for sale, Princess." He grabbed her hips roughly while she slid her tongue around the shell of his ear. 

 

"I'm not," she said with a wicked grin he could hear, her breath across his ear making him shiver. "I don't know if you noticed, but things are a bit different for me than when we first met. I'm not some innocent little girl and I do whatever I must to get what I want. Would you like to know a secret?" She rolled her hips across his lap, bumping up against the bulge where his cock was quickly hardening. 

 

"I think I might," he responded, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips even more, knowing there would be bruises tomorrow. 

 

He could almost feel her smile against his neck. "I had a crush on you, Scabior. I wasn't supposed to, never would have admitted it then. Never would have told anyone about a little schoolgirl's fantasies about the big, bad snatcher. But you called me beautiful and you chased me through that forest. I pushed it down, but somewhere between the terror and the torture after, my brain got mixed up and that part, the part where you looked at me like something to eat and then ran me down? I think I liked it." 

 

Her mouth moved down to the column of his neck, nipping and licking. He gave her a predatory smile. "And here I thought the only feelings you had for me was an urge to hex my balls off." 

 

She chuckled lightly. "Well, you're partially right. My fantasies did involve your balls, among other things. Now Scabior, I'm not a little girl anymore and I don't have anyone to feel ashamed of me." 

 

She pulled back and bit her lip, pouting as she looked into his face. "Why are we still talking?" 

 

"Why indeed?" he asked with a smug smile. Scabior wasn't going to budge, he wasn't just going to give her what she wanted. He wasn't that kind of predator. She led all those men upstairs around by their noses, but she wasn't going to do it to him. If she wanted him, she'd have to give before he would. If he moved just because she said jump, she'd have the control, and that wasn't happening. 

 

She gave a little sigh of frustration and grabbed his hand from her hip and moved to shove it down the front of her knickers. When he refused and lifted an eyebrow at her, she bit her lip and softened her eyes. "Please?" 

 

With a smirk, he let her move his hand where she wanted it. 

 

"That's it, Little Girl," he said while biting back a groan, running a hand through her folds. "You're fucking soaked and I haven't even touched you." 

 

She shivered and blushed, feeling embarrassed that he was right. She'd been wet since he came in her room. "Yes-" she whispered. 

 

Her answer cut off into a wanton moan as he shoved two fingers inside of her. "Oh GODS, " she sighed, a small smile on her face. 

 

Scabior laughed at her, loved the way she blushed with shame because she wanted this, wanted him, and she knew she shouldn't. He was absolutely a dick, but he wasn't into sex where both parties weren't having fun. All that confidence, all that swagger seemed to fly out the window as soon as he touched her. She wasn't embarrassed he had his fingers inside her, she was embarrassed she liked it. He supposed it was one thing to fuck men because you had to, but another thing entirely to do it for no other reason than that you wanted to.Truth be told, he had wanted her for so long, it was an ache in his gut. And he had read her right, thank fuck, and every time he spoke, she just got wetter. 

 

She moaned again as his thumb found her clit and he slammed his lips on hers, finding himself suddenly hungry for all the pieces of her he could steal tonight. Hermione moaned in his mouth and he savored it, biting her lip and forcing his tongue in to explore her. He ran his hands down her curves with his free hand, pinching and squeezing his way along soft skin. 

 

He pinched her nipple, rolling it in between his fingers and he listened to her pant and keen as she nibbled on his ear. He added a third finger and then swallowed the shameless moan that burst from her at the feeling. 

 

"If you keep moaning that loud," he told her, "everyone will hear you and know exactly what you're doing in here." She whimpered and clamped down on his fingers. 

 

He chuckled. "Or is that what you want, Love? Do you want them to know that you really are, what you try so hard to convince them you aren't no matter what they tell themselves?" 

 

"Yessss..." she hissed, scratching her nails down his arms. 

 

"Damn, Witch," he whispered in her ear. "You have the Dark Lord's best snatcher with his fingers in your cunt and you LIKE IT..." 

 

She was drowning in lust and Scabior was careful to never give her quite enough to go over. She was whimpering, "I need to cum, need to cum-" 

 

It was only a moment before she was unceremoniously pushed off his chest and sprawled between his legs. Her attention was quickly brought to the straining fabric in front of her. 

 

"It isn't time to cum yet, Little Girl. You won't cum until I'm inside you." Her eyes rolled back a little at the sound of his voice, but her eyes lit up as she locked her gaze to where he was swiftly unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out, stroking it a few times. She wrapped her hands around it, batting his away. He hissed at the sensation and had meant for her to ride him, assuming she'd want to be doing that cumming they were just talking about as soon as possible. Instead, he cursed out loud when she took him into her mouth, deep, in one quick motion. 

 

"Fuck!" he growled when he hit the back of her throat. She hummed happily at his outburst, which only made him curse more and her mouth moved to slide up and down at a steady, lazy pace. 

 

Scabior gathered her hair in his fist, not pulling, but just moving it out of the way so he could watch her work. He was surprised to see that this was the most at peace she had been the whole night, as if sucking dick was her bliss. If it was, he thought to himself, those pureblood fanatics seriously did not know what they were missing. Not that he wanted anyone else to touch her again, ever. And then he grit his teeth, because wasn't that a crazy fucking thought he just had right there. 

 

He considered for a moment just fucking her face but, in the end, he couldn't know if this was a onetime thing or a repeat performance. Her mouth was heaven, but he wanted to feel her cum around his cock. 

 

"Alright, beautiful," he said, chuckling at her sad little whimper when he pulled her off him. "Are you ready for me?" 

 

His fist in her hair made it easy to lay her out before him, her head at the foot of the bed. He released her locks and flicked his wand to spell his clothes away before latching one hand around her throat while his other ripped her knickers away from her body. Hermione was so lost in pleasure and want that she didn't have the where with all to answer him. 

 

Scabior snarled, his hand not currently at her throat slapping down hard on her clit. She cried out, eyes flying open and unfocused until they settled on his. 

 

He gave her a predatory grin. "There we are, Love. Use your words. Are you ready for me?" 

 

She bit her lower lip and nodded, a little frantically. "Yes, but..." Her eyes roved the room and she seemed to have trouble making her throat work. 

 

Scabior growled, impatient to be inside her. "Spit it out!" 

 

Hermione closed her eyes and her face flushed in shame. "Will you...um, will you do that again?" 

 

Scabior was momentarily confused, but when understanding dawned on him, he laughed out loud. "You want me to spank your pussy?" 

 

Her eyes leaked little tears and she looked away from him, her flush crawling down her neck and chest as she refused to acknowledge what she wanted. Looking at her pretty face, Scabior felt a little pang of affection for her. It was foreign, but it was there all the same, and he supposed there wasn't much for it at this point. 

 

He wasn't very good at reassurance, but he decided to try, a little at least. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "There's nothing wrong with wanting that, Little Love. You can just ask, you know?" 

 

Her tiny, genuine smile mixed with arousal and shame was absolutely to die for. Scabior had to take a minute to find his voice, but when he did, he winked at her. 

 

"Let's say 4 more, Little Girl. That'll round us out at 5, yeah? 

 

Still smiling, she nodded to him. "Yes, please," she whispered 

 

Releasing his hold on her throat, Scabior sat back on his haunches and spread her legs wider, leaving her wide open. "Count them," he told her. 

 

*Smack*  
Her eyes rolled back in her head and she gasped out, "One." 

 

*Smack*  
Her legs quivered, and so did her lip. "Two."  
He wasn't gentle, that wasn't in his wheelhouse, so he took a moment to let Hermoine catch her breathe, stroking her thighs. Her arousal was growing more abundant by the second, eeking down her things and dripping lightly onto the bed. 

 

*Smack*  
A moan, and her hands fisted in her sheets. "Three!"  
Scabior lined himself up at her entrance, slicking himself up with her juices while she was distracted with the sting. 

 

*Smack*  
"Fo- Oh, Fuck!" She never got to finish her fourth count because Scabior quickly plunged into her to the hilt and with two small flicks to her clit, she came. 

 

He never slowed his thrusts, letting her clench around him as he pounded into her. Hermione cried out as her brain could register nothing beyond the man between her legs. She grabbed her legs behind her knees, lifting them to take him deeper. Scabior snarled before pulling out and flipping her onto her belly. His hand fisted her hair and pushed her head into the mattress. Her body was shoved forward face first with each thrust, her shins leaving the bed at the force of his pounding. 

 

She tried to push back and meet him each time he slammed forward, but his pace was punishing and she felt her orgasm begin to build when she realized all she could do was simply TAKE IT. Her hand reached between her legs and almost as soon as she touched herself, she was screaming his name and clenching hard around him. Scabior grunted and yanked her hair, pulling her up so that her back was pressed against his chest. He kept the pressure on her head while he drove up into her and she almost sobbed with pleasure. He was so deep, she truly couldn't think of anything else. All she could see, all that existed, was Scabior and the hard, relentless thrusts of his cock. 

 

As he fucked her, he whispered in her ear. Every word elicited a whimper or a moan and her pussy clenched down on him as his voice sent pleasure throbbing between her legs. 

 

"Oh, you fucking love this, don't you? You like being used like a toy, don't ya?" He groaned against her neck and she shuddered. 

 

Her voice was breathy as she answered. "No! I did-didn't. Not before. Bu-but with you..." 

 

Scabior felt her words rumble all the way down to his dick and he bit her ear. "I believe ya, Little Love, I know...that's what makes you special." 

 

He moaned and with one final, deep thrust he came deep inside her. Keeping them connected, he grabbed her around the waist and turned them so they fell on the bed with her back to his chest. He fought to catch his breath and he thought about his prey, the girl in his arms, and how fucking her had done nothing to sate his yearning for her. 

 

Hermione's head was pillowed on his arm and he wrapped his other arm around her waist. They both lay still as they came down from their respective highs, a contented smile on Hermione's lips. Scabior, however, was pensive. 

 

"That was soooo good..." she said, nuzzling his bicep. His other arm tightened around her and he burrowed his head in her hair, inhaling that same vanilla cinnamon scent that had lured him in years ago. 

 

Worried about his silence, she tried to turn to face him, but his arms kept her from being able to. 

 

"Scabior?" she asked, her voice soft and tentative. 

 

"You know I'm in good with the Dark Lord, yeah?" he asked without really considering what he was about to do. 

 

"Yes..." she replied, confused about the abrupt change of subject. 

 

"Did you know that a new law came down that his loyal and trusted followers are allowed to claim muggleborns or half bloods?" When she didn't reply, Scabior kept talking. "There's a fee you have to pay, licensing. Like you're buying a pet, almost, at least that's how most wizards see it." 

 

Hermione fought to keep her voice neutral, but she knew at least a little venom snuck into her voice. "And do these people who are being bought, do they get a say in this?" 

 

"No," Scabior answered blankly. 

 

She grit her teeth, struggling not to let her voice shake. "And you want a pet then, is that it? Why you're telling me?" 

 

He sighed into her hair, before speaking quietly in a tone she had never heard him use. "I don't want a pet, I want you. It's fucking stupid of me, but there you have it. And if you let me, we could travel together, live together. We could make some sort of worthwhile life in this decaying and ruined world we're living in." 

 

"What do you mean, 'Let you'?" she snapped. "You just said they don't give mudbloods a say." 

 

He shrugged, wondering what in the fuck he was doing but finding himself unable to stop all the same. "They don't, HE doesn't give you a say. I am, though," he sighed. 

 

"I have a decent amount of galleons, a home, and a life...A life full of mischief and adventure, eh? Just like a little Gryffindor would be tempted by, eh?" He said the last bit in a teasing way, like he was trying to tempt her. A small smile broke on her face, though he couldn't see it. 

 

"Well," she said lightly. "I am a bit bored." He smirked behind her, nibbling her ear and sliding his still half-hard length gently between her thighs. 

 

"Snatching ain't boring, Love. It ain't particularly moral neither, but you don't seem to be that same goody-goody I met before, now are ya?" 

 

She grinned a little as his hand moved up and down her side. "That I am not." 

 

He completely withdrew from her and flipped her so she was looking at him. Scabior studied her face, bring his hand forward to tangle in her hair. 

 

"So," he said. "What'll it be then? It ain't easy, but I promise not to make you sing to me about being a whore neither." He winked at her and she bit back a chuckle. 

 

Hermione pretended to consider before fixing him with a very serious stare. "Fuck me like you just did at EVERY, SINGLE campsite we use, and it's a deal." 

 

His face broke into a wide and wicked smile as he rolled on top of her and slid back inside her wet heat. "Oh, Little Love. I think we can work something out."


End file.
